


6 AM

by zhangyixing



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Walk Of Shame, almost.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhangyixing/pseuds/zhangyixing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grabbing the clothes, he makes for the restroom, before coming face-to-face with Mr. Angryface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	6 AM

Waking up with the sun was a quality of himself he didn't like, but in extreme cases, such as this certain morning, it came in handy.

Yahaba's head is twisted, face naturally facing the sun and creating a crick in his neck he'll use to avoid people later in the day. He breaths in, the cold air hitting his nose hard. A headache blooms in the front of his head, and Yahaba struggles to remember the past 5 hours.

He's in a room he doesn't recognize, and that's the first flag. _Who did I go home with?_

A musky scent radiates from the body next to him. Yahaba blearily examines him: cropped blond hair with dark lines streaking the sides of his head, a face that looks like he's frowning in his sleep, red, thin scratches on his shoulders and hickeys scattered on his neck and chest-

Yahaba turns away, blushing until the tips of his ears. That's flag two, and he also realizes he's still naked. 

He quietly slips out of the bed, and looks around for his clothes. There's a pair of jeans by the bed and boxers by the door. Yahaba doesn't recognize the clothes as his, and doesn't see any other clothes on the ground or anywhere in the room. He grimaces as he takes a couple steps, lower back stinging and legs shaking. Yahaba grabs a towel hanging on the door and wraps it around his waist before going into the living room.

Yahaba notes he's in a very spartan apartment, clean walls and only a couple colors in the whole place. There's a broken pot by the door, and a few shards of a broken bottle, too. _Did we fight?_ Yahaba thinks, examining himself for marks. He finds a few bruises on his hips and blotches on his chest, but doesn't think they're from a fight. 

He tiptoes around, finding his clothes, all his clothes, in a very indecent pile on the couch. He looks at them and his face scrunches up.

Grabbing the clothes, he makes for the restroom, before coming face-to-face with Mr. Angryface. Yahaba shrieks, dropping his clothes and clutching his chest. The guy, still sleepy, rubs a hand down his face and rubs his temples. Yahaba's still blushing.

"So," The guy begins, and damned if Yahaba will forget that voice from last night, "were you just planning on leaving without paying me?"

Yahaba's face freezes for a second. _There's no money in my wallet._ He starts carefully. "...Pay you for what?"

The guy jerks his chin at the broken plant pot. Yahaba stares at it.

"And these." Yahaba looks at a pair of silky sheets in the guy's hand, rips ruining the fabric.

Yahaba purses his lips. He's got a horrible headache, no pants on, and now he's probably in debt thanks to those expensive looking sheets. A flare of annoyance and slight anger rushes through his chest. It's too early for this.

"Sorry, but were those exclusively my fault?" Yahaba says, a mocking smile on his face. "I don't know you, I'm sorry for your sheets and pot, but from what I remember they weren't my fault."

"Oh?" The guy says, raising his eyebrows. "What do you remember?"

Yahaba is pretty confident in his lying skills. He can whip up a lie right now, no problem. But one look at the guy's intense eyes and Yahaba wants to break out in a sweat. It's still worth trying to get out of this place without owing money.

"Where do you want me to start?" Yahaba says instead, trying to buy time for his brain to come up with a plausible lie.

The guy shifts back, leaning on the wall. He stares at the ceiling. "Let's start back at the bar."

Yahaba nods. "Ok," and he wants to start lying before the guy interrupts him.

"I saw you at the bar, dancing, and I thought, _'Damn, he looks like he could loosen up,'_ because you looked like a fucking bamboo stick on the floor, all whimsy and stiff."

"Excuse me-" Yahaba half-shouts, half-shrieks, but the guy shushes him with a raised hand and blank stare.

"I saw you, and approached you. We dance, obviously, and after grinding on each other for maybe five minutes, you said you wanted to go to my place. We were both pretty drunk and horny so I said okay," The guy keeps talking as he walks into the kitchen, grabbing a few cups.

"We get here, and I had a bottle of beer in my hand from the bar, right, to drink? But no, we come here and you, drunk out of your mind, slap it out of my hand, and attack me on the wall right there." He fills the cups with water and searches through a cabinet. Yahaba watches quietly, memories matching his story.

"In my mind, I'm thinking, _'Hell yeah,'_ because if you haven't noticed, I can get a little crazy in bed," (and Yahaba tries not to die right then and there), "but you got a little more crazier than I thought. You grab me and push me down, right there by the door, and we fall. In you going down, you knock over my expensive, hand-made Japanese Sōma ware-style pot."

Yahaba looks at said expensive pot with guilty eyes. A few details of the design are still visible, and one horse stares straight at Yahaba. 

The guy walks over to Yahaba, handing him a cup of water and an orange before sitting on the couch. 

"Oh, yes, and then the sheets."

Yahaba sits down, face grave. "I don't think I need to hear the rest."

The guy sips at his cup.

**Author's Note:**

>  _y ya son las 6 de la mañana y todavía no recuerdo nada , ni siquiera conozco tu cara ..._  
>  listening to J. Balvin on repeat while writing this  
> also had this stuck in my throat ever since i wrote that chapter for daily routine.


End file.
